Page 44 of Dirty Roulette
“Still not clicking, but keep going.” I dip my head to the left and take another bite.
“Well, he found out it was his shirt, and went around the school telling everyone he was my boyfriend, and I sucked him off in the girls’ bathroom.” She says with her mouth gaping open like it should be something I’ll always remember. “You seriously don’t remember this?”
I shake my head, as there isn’t a neuron finding the videotape to recap it for me. I’ve shoved a lot of memories from high school onto the back burner of my mind. But I’m curious for her to continue.
“Okay, well, these preppy bitches told the principal they saw me do it.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“No!”
“This happened in eighth grade?” I ask.
“Yeah, I remember coming over telling you how the principal wouldn’t even let me go pee until I admitted to it. I pissed myself in the office, and she forced me to go back to class.”
“Jesus.”
“You made me a screwdriver after school.”
“I did?” I ask, leaning over the picnic table, having no recollection of it. “I drank a lot of those when no one was looking. That’s probably why I don’t remember this.”
“I got super buzzed off it, and you gave me your jersey.”
The napkin crumbles in my fist as I dig around my brain for a moment, trying to locate the memory inside my head. It's foggy and vague, and most likely because I drank my parents’ vodka all the time. They blamed the empty bottles on each other, while it was my fingers tingling. But a little neuron dusts off the videotape I’m searching for and hands the memory to me, much to my relief.
“I made you wear it the next day.” I look back at her and toss the napkin into an empty basket.
“Then you picked me up and kissed me on the forehead.” She rubs her hands together underneath the table with her cheeks flushing. “They all thought I was dating a Junior in high school. It was the coolest thing ever.”
“I always kissed you on the forehead after that, didn’t I?”
“Yeah... I kinda always had a little crush on you after that.”
“Uh... Payton.” I run both hands through my hair and stare down at the wooden picnic table. The crumbs and dried ketchup stains glare back at me. When I try to feel anything, I choke up. Right now, something has its claws wrapped around my lungs, refusing to let me free.
“You dated in high school, right?” I ask and lift up my head.
Her cute little button nose crunches up. “Not really.”
“You never sat there and made out with someone under the stairway?”
“No, umm...” Her laugh turns nervous and shy.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah...”
“Was I your first kiss?”
“Umm...” She visibly swallows, biting her bottom lip. “I’d make out with Charlie for shits and giggles, but with a guy... I uhh... yeah.”
I run a hand along my neck. Images of my sister aside, the fact thatIwas her first kiss in any real sense sends me reeling. I can’t wrap a finger around how someone as gorgeous as her managed to walk with a diploma without datingonefool. With one look from her blue eyes and thick lashes, I cave in. I need to kiss her again.
“Is there something wrong?” She asks.
“No... I’m just stealing all your firsts that you could be having with someone else.”
“Oh...” Her eyes dart around as she bites the inside of her cheeks. “I’m going to throw these away,” obviously trying to change the subject. She snags the baskets and empty drinks.
